Cruel World (13 page)

The pain was sharp and boiled at each point she pushed the needle through, the thread thin but severely uncomfortable as it slid through his skin. After the first two stitches he looked away, focusing on the brightness of the day in the empty field behind the development, how the brown grass nearly glowed, the twisting paths a pair of birds made through the air, the dancing flicker of a butterfly close to the trees.

“And done,” Alice said, snipping off the excess thread. The stitches were surprisingly neat and there were more than he would’ve guessed.

“Wow, thanks,” he said.

“What, you didn’t think I could do it?”

“I guess I didn’t know.”

She gave him a small smile.

“Well, now you do.”

He slid off the counter, his leg feeling somewhat like an overcooked sausage.

“Did mom fix you all up, Quinn?” Ty asked.

“She did.”

“Did it hurt as much as shots at the doctors?”

“Hmmm, no, not that bad.”

“Good, ‘cause mom’s not a doctor, you know.”

“Watch that sass, boy,” Alice said, cleaning up the first aid kit.

She’s not,
Ty mouthed, and it was Quinn’s turn to hide a smile.

~

The afternoon passed into evening uneventfully. Quinn stood at the front bedroom window that faced the hidden ocean and listened for nearly an hour, one of the AR-15s leaning against the wall. No gunshots or yells or even a car engine filtered into the small development. The surrounding neighborhood was quiet as well, with only squirrels and birds moving among the branches of the trees. What had happened to the brothers? Were they dead now because of his actions? Probably. But what choice did he have? In the recesses of his heart he knew that given the chance, the two men would’ve gunned them all down for the contents of their vehicle.

Movement drew his attention on the next street over, and he pulled a pair of small binoculars to his eyes that he’d rested on the windowsill.

A stilt walked down the center of the neighboring street, its elongated head stuck forward, sharp shoulder blades jutting in the evening sun. It didn’t look his way and continued south, stopping only to sniff the air once before disappearing through a garden in a large house’s backyard.

“Anything?”

His hands lost their grip on the binoculars, and he barely caught them before they clattered to the floor. He shook his head and turned to find Alice standing in the doorway.

“Sorry I startled you.”

“It’s okay. One of them just went by on the next street over.”

“Really?” She came into the room, stopping next to him so that her shoulder brushed his upper arm. “Let me see,” she said, holding out a hand for the binoculars. He gave them to her and she scanned the houses and sidewalks methodically. Quinn looked at her, how dark her hair was compared to her skin. The delicate bones in her wrists. He’d never noticed someone’s wrists before. She dropped the binoculars from her eyes and he glanced away, surveying the same area she had.

“I don’t see anything now,” she said.

“No, I think it kept going.”

“One of them wouldn’t be as much of a problem as a pack. We could handle one of them.”

“Yep, they die just like we do. Where’s Ty?”

“Sleeping. I made a bed in the room across the hall for him.”

“Good. Did you see I parked the Tahoe below the window?”

“Yeah, why?”

“If we have to leave in the middle of the night, we can go out the window and land on the top of it. Then we don’t have to go out the back door. Easy escape route.”

Alice appraised him, jutting her bottom lip out like he’d seen her do when she agreed with something.

“That works. You already checked the window?”

“Yeah, it opens nice and wide, and it’s already unlocked.”

“Good. We’ll find another vehicle we can take tomorrow before we go look for mom.”

Quinn hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. When do you want to go?”

“In the morning, before noon. That’ll give us enough time to get somewhere safe by sundown, and for you to get home.” She looked at him, and he kept his face slack, not meeting her gaze but instead watching the quiet homes across the street.

“Perfect,” he finally said.

“Perfect,” she echoed and moved to the door. “I’ll get some food going.” He nodded once and heard her move down the hallway to the stairs. His eyes roamed the cars lining the second street over. A shadow was slumped against the steering wheel of a late model minivan. Unmoving. The entire world seemed to have stilled in the evening light.

“Perfect,” he said to the empty room.

~

They ate sitting on the floor of the kitchen, Ty at Alice’s side and Quinn across from them. Quinn’s meal was a type of Mediterranean chicken, spicy and not at all dry like he’d thought it would be. Although they weren’t able to warm the food in anything since there were no appliances in the house, everyone’s food disappeared quickly, and there was little talk between bites. When they finished, Alice wrapped the disposable containers in a garbage bag she found beneath the kitchen sink and set it in a corner.

“To keep the smell down,” she said when he looked at the bag.

They moved into the living room, and Quinn opened one of the windows looking out into the front yard, leaning his rifle against the wall beside it. Alice brought a blanket from the small pile of supplies in the kitchen and draped it over Ty, who smiled as she sat down beside him on the living room floor.

“It’s going to get cold tonight,” Alice said, hugging Ty close to her side. Quinn glanced at her and then at the gas fireplace mounted in the living room wall.

“I’ll get this started,” he said, moving to kneel before the glass front. “If the power’s on, I’m guessing the gas will be too.”

“What about the flames? You’d be able to see them from the street,” Alice said.

“Not until it gets darker. Then we can pull the shades and throw blankets over the windows facing the neighborhood.”

Quinn fiddled with the gas valve beneath the decorative, ceramic logs until he heard a small whoosh. He pushed the red button and listened to the distinctive click of an electric starter. Flames erupted out of the fireplace and he felt the hair on his arms shrivel beneath its touch.

“Damn,” he said, sitting back. Alice made a surprised grunt and then snorted once. When he looked at her, her face was lit with the same smile he’d seen in Thor’s armory. “Are my eyebrows still there?” he asked. This made Alice laugh harder, and Ty giggled. “Glad I can be of amusement,” he said, moving back to his post beside the window. After a time, Alice and Ty grew quiet and only the calls of chickadees and the occasional Blue Jay filtered in from outside.

“Can we play a game?” Ty asked just when Quinn thought the boy had fallen asleep.

“What kind of game?” Alice said.

“I don’t know, something fun.”

“Sorry, champ. I’m fresh out of board games.”

“We could play reflex,” Quinn said.

“What’s that?” Ty asked.

“It’s word association. My dad called it reflex when I was little. Like if I say, blue, what’s the first thing that comes to your mind?”

“Mom says the sky’s blue, and so’s the ocean sometimes.”

Quinn felt his face grow hot as Alice narrowed her eyes at him. Had he just asked a blind boy what he associated with a color?

“Yeah, like that. Here, how about dog?” Quinn said, barreling on as embarrassment tried to constrict his throat.

“Friend,” Ty answered almost immediately.

“There you go. Okay Alice, your turn.”

“I don’t want to play.”

“Come on, mom!” Ty protested. Alice gave Quinn a withering look and sighed.

“Okay, hit me, Quinn.”

“Blue Jay,” he said, hearing the bird’s shrill call again in the distance.

“Annoying,” Alice said. Quinn laughed.

“Yeah, they can be that.”

“Car,” Ty said, sitting forward.

“Tahoe,” Quinn said, glancing out of the window.

“Mom, you go. Tree.”

“Grow.”

“Elephant,” Quinn said.

“Big!” Ty exclaimed.

“Shhh, Ty. We have to keep our voices down,” Alice said.

“No fun,” Ty said, half smiling.

“What? Keeping our voices down?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, grinning as his sightless eyes stared at the floor.

“Maine,” Quinn said.

“Home,” Ty answered.

“Ocean,” Alice asked, looking directly at Quinn.

“Freedom,” he said. “Beer.”

“Good,” Alice said, and Ty laughed, his head following their voices. “Steak.”

“Delightful. Flowers,” Quinn shot back.

“A waste. Dancing.”

“Can’t. Trust.”

“A waste. Guns.”

“Loud. Love.”

“Myth. Death.”

“Scary. Fire,” Quinn said, glancing at the flames. Alice opened her mouth and then shut it, her eyes wide, looking past him, through him.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said finally and stood, moving through the doorway and out of sight. A moment later there was the quiet closing of a door. Quinn watched the hallway where she’d disappeared, his brow furrowed. It was only when Ty touched his arm that he realized the boy had risen and crossed the room to him. Quinn gazed down into Ty’s eyes, their focus swimming and watery. His irises were so blue and bright, even beneath the thin veil of gray film they were hard to look at.

“Bend down,” Ty said, tugging his arm. Quinn obliged, tilting his head to one side to accept the secret the boy was undoubtedly about to tell him.

One of Ty’s hands, small and airy, grazed his face.

Quinn jerked away, standing up so suddenly Ty nearly fell backward. The boy’s eyes were as wide as his mother’s had been before she left the room.

“I just wanted to know what you looked like,” Ty said. His voice was small, uneven.

“Sorry. You…I’m just,” Quinn said and looked up as Alice stepped into the room. She glanced from Ty to him and then back again, understanding slowly gracing her features.

“Ty, let’s get you ready for bed,” she said.

“But it’s early, and I took a nap.”

“Tyrus...”

“Okay.”

Alice handed him the tape-wrapped dowel, and he shuffled out of the room, tapping with the makeshift cane. Alice hesitated for a moment and then followed him toward the bathroom. Quinn cursed under his breath and faced the window again, watching the dead neighborhood.

~

It was full dark by the time Ty fell asleep in the upstairs bedroom. Quinn had drawn all the curtains an hour before and hung an extra blanket over the window closest to the fireplace in the living room. With the flames set to low, only a slight glow rippled behind the glass, squat shadows dancing on the new carpet beyond the mantle.

Quinn sat before it, the AR-15 on the floor beside him. He’d watched the streets in front of the house until the daylight faded to nothing, like an oil lamp being turned down. The buildings blended with the trees into amorphous shapes, and the streetlamps came on near the neighboring commune of houses, scattering the shadows beneath the hedges and benches lining the sidewalks. He threw a glance at the sliding door opening to the back yard, assuring himself that the two-by-four he’d found in the garage and jammed into the frame would be sufficient as a lock.

Unless someone really wants to get in. Or some thing.

He brushed the thoughts away as Alice returned to the living room, her own weapon hanging from a sling she’d attached to it earlier in the afternoon. She sat down a step away, folding her legs beneath her like a child awaiting story time. In the flickering light, she appeared even younger. Before he could stop himself, the question fell from his mouth.

“How old are you?”

Alice turned her head toward him, coating one half of her face in light and the other in darkness.

“How old do you think I am?”

“I’m not answering that.”

She smiled. “Smart guy.” After a long pause, she looked back at the fire. “Twenty three. How about you?”

“Twenty.”

“Not even drinking age yet.”

“Nope.”

“I could tell you weren’t much of a drinker.”

“I could tell you were.”

“Touché.” She fingered the stock of her rifle and turned to him again. “I’m sorry if Ty made you uncomfortable earlier. It’s just how he sees people…”

Quinn shook his head. “It’s fine. I didn’t…”

“Didn’t what?”

“Didn’t want to scare him,” Quinn finished, throwing Alice a look before rising to peer out of the window. When he was satisfied that the street was quiet, he sat down again.